Restrained
by OMG-Orlaith
Summary: An alternate plot to the helipad invasion scene. Natasha, imprisoned by Loki and Clint, is being recruited as one of their own. However, once the scepter touches her heart, things don't really go as planned. Rated T for not too graphic depictions of violence, one scene of attempted rape, again, not too intense or descriptive.


"Barton."

Clint's master's voice echoes around the destroyed hall, the Hulk had left shattered glass and shredded steel covering the floor almost completely. "Do you have her restrained?"

"I do," Clint's voice emanates pride; evidently eager to please Loki. Loki registers this with a smirk, directed towards both Clint and the struggling Natasha Romanoff.

Natasha is bound, gagged, and making every effort to escape; kicking and scratching at her restraints with all the strength she can muster. She is gagged with a simple piece of cloth, but her ankles, wrists and torso are fastened to the chair with some unfamiliar metal wire. The undoubtedly Asgardian metal emits a strange glow, and burns her as she attempts escape. Bright red marks are already beginning to show on her arms and legs; blood wells and spills out of her wounds, dripping onto the ground.

Loki strolls behind Natasha and bends down slightly, stroking her shoulder blade with his index finger. She instantly freezes as his cool skin comes into contact with her open wound. Her blood stains his hand, prompting another grin from the demigod. He moves his hand upwards, his finger gently brushing her cheekbone, leaving her face smeared with her own blood.

Disgusted, Natasha closes her eyes, and breathes deeply to calm herself. The rage inside of her threatens to overflow, but she realises that should that happen, the chances of her survival would be significantly diminished.

Loki saunters back to his original position: in front of Natasha and beside his adoring follower. He strokes his sceptre gently; the blue light it produces submerges the hall in an eerie glow. It accentuates his features: his sharp, angular cheekbones, his defined jaw line and his eyes, set deep in his eye sockets. Shadows mar the skin underneath his eyes, but he still is beautiful. Natasha doesn't admit this begrudgingly, as she knows better than anybody how misleading beauty can be.

Before she can react, in one fluid movement, Loki jabs the sceptre in her direction, and it pokes her just above her heart. Natasha feels her blood freeze slowly, gradually spreading the ice-cold feeling throughout her body. Her vision is blurred, and she can't shake the feeling as though she is shedding herself- shedding her body, her appearance, and her mind, and having them replaced. Just as the painfully cold feeling reaches her toes and fingertips, like a snap - her mind is changed. It's not taken, broken or replaced, as she had previously thought, just tampered with. She recognizes Clint, and still has memories of him, but they don't affect her in any way. She remembers holding him, kissing him, protecting him, and yet she would kill this man in an instant if Loki required it.

"Perfect," Loki's smile plasters across his face and he spins around towards the door. "Barton, you can unfasten her restraints. Mould her. I'll be back for her later, I'm not finished…"

_Mould her?_

She doesn't even have time to wonder what Loki meant by "mould" before Clint's slap sends her head spinning. She tries to shake away the stinging feeling, blinking hard, but he answers with another blow to the centre of her face. Her nose, broken, seeps blood, and she can feel the bruises already beginning to emerge. She doesn't fight back, even as he unwraps the metal wire from around her injured body. She has no urge whatsoever to leave.

"This…" Clint mutters, followed by a punch to the eye. "…is what happens when you displease our master. Understand?"

She nods feebly, head lolling to one side.

"I understand." She whispers. He yanks her hair, causing her to wince.

"Cowardice, unfaithfulness, and disloyalty do not please him," He seethes, voice filled with undiluted hatred. "You will take this pain, and even when his hand is the hand that delivers it, you will not utter a word."

This time, she remains silent, enduring his beatings with her eyes closed and mouth shut. His penultimate blow nearly shatters her jaw, and upon his final blow, he whispers into her ear.  
"Our master has little use of pretty faces like you, Natasha,"

"You still think I'm pretty?" She murmurs, opening her eyes.

"W-what?"  
For the first time, Clint falters. Frowning in confusion, he lets his guard down.

He watches, dumbstruck, as the mind-control seems to literally slide off of her as she regains more and more of her own self. Once the black shade to her eyes seems to melt away and is replaced by her familiar green, it's her turn to smirk. Clint, at a loss for words, stands open-mouthed.

He doesn't even see the kick coming.

Winded, he lies motionless on the ground for a few moments before fumbling around, trying to get up. Another powerhouse kick to the temple, not strong enough to kill, only to injure, renders Clint unable to move. Natasha sees the opportunity and grabs the wires, tying them around his arms. Despite everything, she still ties them loosely, and he experiences only mild irritation on his skin. She props Clint up against the wall as he dips in and out of consciousness. He looks so innocent, she remarks, and she smiles a little.

The door slams. She guesses the identity of her visitor correctly as  
Loki grabs her from behind in a headlock, outraged at her escape. She feels his breath tingle against the back of her neck as he throws insults at her.

"You disgusting, pathetic baggage, I give you true freedom, and this is your repayment?" He hisses into her ear. "I shall show you mercy; your punishment will be what most consider a reward."

With an empty feeling in her stomach, she realises her situation just as he begins to tug on the zip of her catsuit. She hits back, striking him across the face, causing him to growl in anger. He shoves her to the floor, her body, already weakened from the beatings, aches as it hits the floor with unmerciful force.

He chooses to draw it out, standing over her and getting to his knees slowly. He places one knee at each side of her, pressing her legs together and rendering her unable to move below her hips. He runs his hands up from her waist, and once he reaches her zip once more the look of rage upon his face transforms into a gloating smirk. Natasha scrambles desperately, searching for a weapon that might lie in the debris.

Her fingers close around a section of piping, and once she secures her grip she hits the demigod's temple with enough force to knock out a regular man. It sends him reeling, resulting in him removing some of her force his knees had on her lower body. She quickly squirms away from him, struggling to her feet.

Her headset, which she had lost in her original clash with Clint, beeps loudly from the corner. A voice, muffled, sounds from the other end of the line.

"Agent Romanoff?" Coulson's voice is worried.

Loki, having recovered from his injury, stands still with a smug grin, daring her to answer. When she doesn't, Coulson speaks again.

"We're sending Tony down anyway, Nat."

Loki swears out loud.

"You little bitch." He spits, just before Natasha notices what he doesn't- the fact that Tony has already arrived and is waiting behind Loki, like a predator ambushing its prey. Within the space of a few seconds, Tony has Loki pinned against the wall, the element of surprise and the iron suit proving too much for him. He kicks and swears, throwing insults at Natasha, Tony, and the SHIELD agents, (when they arrive a few minutes later) though nobody pays much attention.

Once the SHIELD employees have finished returning Loki to his imprisonment chamber, she takes a moment to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Unannounced, she hits Tony playfully on the shoulder.

"Had to steal my thunder, didn't you, Stark? I was on a roll there,"

"You didn't need my help, sugar." Tony grins. "Just thought I'd lend a hand,"

She feigns a disappointed groan. "Ah, Tony…I could have finished him off myself,"  
"I know you could, my lethal wallflower, and you certainly did a hell of a lot better than I would have without my fabulous suit o' iron. Oh, and by the way…" He gestures towards Clint, who is squinting in the corner, coming out of unconsciousness. "…Looks like Katniss is emerging from her slumber. You two may want to be alone,"

She raises an eyebrow.

"Fine, OK? You got me. Frankly, I just don't want to be here. I don't really _do_ being a third wheel, except under special circumstances. And if you guys _are_ into that kind of thing, you know my number,"

"You're an ass," she laughs, as he makes his way towards the exit.

She can just about hear him call from the doorway, "Don't hate me 'cos you ain't me, Blossom."

"Nat…How'd you do that?" Clint wonders, almost to himself. He is in the same position as she'd left him, but has seemed to recover quite a bit. "How'd you just…shake him off…so easily?"

"I guess I've been brainwashed a bit too much in my life. It just doesn't seem to work for me anymore,"

The corners of his mouth flick upwards as he meets her gaze.

"Thanks, Natasha," The two words hang in the air, as she (and he, for that matter) waits for more.

"Shut up," she finally replies.

"Natasha, one more thing,"

"Yeah?"

"We don't need Stark for _this_."  
As Clint fumbles for her zipper, she does something that she has never done before in her lifetime - she giggles.  
The demolished hall provides a surprisingly romantic setting for their evening, in Natasha's opinion.


End file.
